


in your arms (i rest)

by Louuii



Series: his musings and muse [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Hurt No Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louuii/pseuds/Louuii
Summary: Jaskier always thought that he would die on the road as he followed Geralt, either by the hands of men or by monsters. But here he is, comfortable in his bed with a roof over his head.or: Jaskier dies peacefully, alone in his room.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: his musings and muse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130264
Comments: 28
Kudos: 160





	in your arms (i rest)

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been lurking in the fandom for more than a year, and have read more than a handful of wonderful fics, so I thought I might try my hand at this. Haven’t written in years, so it may be a bit rusty. 
> 
> Here’s my attempt at angst and a bit of character study. Just to get a feel of Jaskier. 
> 
> Unbeta’d, so point out any mistakes!
> 
> (I have only watched the Netflix show and read fanfics. I haven’t read the books nor played the game. Just a fair warning.)

Jaskier is a selfish man, this he knows too well. When he wants something, he’ll be damned to not even _try_ to have it. Yes, he’s the type to do anything to get it, and he’ll wholeheartedly pay its price. This is why, back in Posada, when his gaze landed on a scowling Witcher in a shoddy tavern, he just _knew_ that he must have him. Not in the literal sense, of course, but he’ll cling to this man because he knows there are _greatness_ and _heroics_ that’s begging to be told and he’ll make sure that it is _Jaskier_ who’ll sing these words throughout the Continent. That it is _him_ who’ll make this man known in these vast lands, to bring regal fame and prosperity to these Witchers scorned by men. Geralt of Rivia is a muse that he must not let go of—even if he was punched on their first introduction.

(Jaskier will admit he deserved that. It wasn’t fair to Geralt to be called a _Butcher_ , of all things. No, it’ll be the _White Wolf_ if Jaskier has any say on it, and gods, _does_ he have words about it.)

He wonders when his adoration of this crude man has turned into love, but he’s not surprised. Jaskier loves freely and unsparingly. He may be a fleeting lark, here today but gone tomorrow, but the affection he holds for his paramours is genuine. Which is why it makes sense that he, too, also fell in love with Geralt. For all of the growling threats and rough manhandling, Geralt is a _good_ man. He’s one of the very few people Jaskier met who has morals so honourable and just. Beneath his prickly shell, the Witcher is soft and good in his soul, through and through. Jaskier doubles his effort in changing Geralt’s image, it is what the man deserves, after all. And thus, along the way, Jaskier has fallen for him.

While Jaskier is unafraid in proclaiming his love, what he has for Geralt is fragile and complicated. Jaskier is unafraid of rejection—no good bard should fear rejection—but he fears that in admitting his love, he’ll lose this friendship he has with him. For all of Jaskier’s stupidity and bravado, he’s hesitant and wary when it comes to their relationship. So, instead, he keeps his love hidden and stayed by Geralt’s side as a faithful and loyal friend, continuing to love others to cover his love for the Witcher in years to come.

Then the blasted djinn and _Yennefer_ happened.

While he wishes so badly that it is _him_ who has a hold of Geralt’s heart, Jaskier can’t find it in himself to be angry or hurt. Geralt deserves to love and be loved in return, and it isn’t Yennefer’s fault that Jaskier was too spineless to confess. So, he merely watches at the sideline, as a faithful and loyal friend should.

Years passed and yet, his love has never wavered. A flame that burns so bright on some days or a small kindle on others, but ever-present, nonetheless. His love for others has come and go, but never Geralt’s. Jaskier stays by his side, always—then he’s harshly and painfully pushed away.

See, Jaskier knows that Geralt was hurting at the time. When he thought he lost Borch, he also lost Yennefer. While Jaskier and Yennefer aren’t exactly _friends_ , he wished that it was _her_ who stayed by Geralt’s side, because it is what Geralt yearns for. He’ll try to persuade Geralt to forget her—she’s beautiful and powerful, but _crazy_ —and Geralt will promptly ignore him because the heart wants what it wants. Jaskier won’t find fault in that.

(Jaskier suggesting they head to the coast was the closest thing to him ever admitting his love. He only received a mere _hmm_ , and the bard left it at that.)

When Yennefer left, Jaskier was meant to remain, but he, too, was forced to leave. Truthfully, he’s still unsure who left whom. While it was Geralt who wished Jaskier to get off his hands, it felt like _Geralt_ was the one who walked away,even when it was Jaskier who trudged down the mountain alone.

Yes, Jaskier is a selfish man, and he would have demanded an apology and argued with Geralt at the time, but he loved the man dearly. And so if it is his wish for him to leave, then it is the last _blessing_ he can give.

After the disastrous dragon hunt, Jaskier chose to lick his wounds in Oxenfurt, wherein he was offered a position in teaching. With no muse and a broken heart, Jaskier accepts and has stayed since. His reputation and experience as the White Wolf’s bard have garnered him the fame that he rightfully earned. He teaches young and aspiring musicians what he has studied when he was a student back then, but he also shares the lessons that can only be learned on the road. There are times he longs to travel once again, to mingle and set out, but he’ll look at the eager and excited look of his students, and, well, he finds contentment and pleasure with them as his audience. Jaskier remains a professor.

He hadn’t left Oxenfurt in months, merely teaching and enjoying the city, but never far. He doesn’t leave in search for Geralt, and in turn, the Witcher doesn’t look for him. Jaskier doesn’t resent him for it.

But even then, nothing goes right for him. After three months or so, Jaskier started to weaken. It was a simple twinge of pain in his chest, easily ignorable, but it soon frequented. He sought a healer when its pain was becoming problematic. He was given oil to scent and concoctions to drink, and it did help for a while, but the pain still returned.

Jaskier then started to feel tired, even when he slept early, and he soon finds himself unable to do anything without losing breath. He disregards his symptoms, but his dearest friend, Essi, bullies him into seeking a healer once again. Like last time, he was only prescribed with disgusting crushed and liquified herbs. After three months since his first check-up, his health deteriorated. Week by week, he tires easily with frequent chest pains. And week by week, healers could not identify what ails him, but can only help in easing the pain. He even approached a sorceress once, but she said that Jaskier was perfectly healthy. He argued that he felt physical pain and was constantly tired, but she swore to him that her magic could detect no sickness.

 _And here I am_ , Jaskier thinks with a small chuckle.

His failing health has forced him bed-ridden, unable to teach anymore. The university understood his situation perfectly and was very accommodating, something Jaskier is grateful for. They wanted him to focus on recovering, and that his classes will be handled.

Here, Jaskier lies on his bed, comfortably tucked and warmed by the fire in his room. Essi, his loyal friend, sits on a chair by his side, gently holding his hand. The night was quiet, slivers of moonlight slipping past his curtains to his room. He had eaten dinner already, delivered by staff, and was feeling full and warm.

Beautiful Essi whispers, “You must get well, Julek. The festivity is fast approaching, and I plan on dragging you with me.”

Jaskier laughs as much as he can without throwing a coughing fit.

“Darling, I, too, plan on enjoying it,” he answers with his eyes closed, enjoying the fingers combing through his hair.

“How can you, when you have remained in your bed for nearly two months,” she teases, but sadness colours her tone.

Jaskier blinks one eye open, before closing it again as he grasped the hand on him a bit tighter.

“I’ll get better. Trust me.”

“I know you will, but I worry. No healer nor witch can say what ails you. No curse to break either.”

“None of that now. It is what it is. I’m feeling a _tad_ bit better, truth be told.”

Lapse of silence wash over them. They both know he’s lying. Jaskier hasn’t gotten better the past weeks, but instead, his health was worsening. It’s a fact they chose to ignore, focusing on remaining optimistic, but now, it is a truth they can no longer ignore.

“No, you aren’t,” Essi says.

His friend didn’t say it accusingly nor did she wish to hurt him, but merely a sad honesty.

“No, I’m not,” Jaskier agrees with a small smile.

Jaskier feels breathless, even only after few words. Essi notices and doesn’t push for a conversation, merely humming a lovely tune to soothe him.

They remain in comfortable silence, save for the puffs of Jaskier’s breath and the soft melody of Essi’s voice, before, “Go now, my dear. It’s almost late at night, I don’t wish to tire you so.”

“Worry not, I don’t feel tired.”

“Ah,” Jaskier starts with a mischievous smile. “True as it may be, but I require a servant who is alert to my every beck and call tomorrow.”

Essi laughs, bright and good-naturedly. “This servant will no longer answer to your call with that kind of attitude.”

“Furthermore, I demand fresh berries hand-picked for my breakfast. I’ll accept nothing less.”

“Oh, you insufferable man!”

They share a burst of laughter, short but sincere. Jaskier turns his head to the side, fully facing his friend. There must be something in his gaze, because Essi sobers, her full attention back to him.

“Essi, my darling, dearest heart and friend, what would I do without you?”

She smiles sweetly, pushing his fringe back from his warm forehead.

“It is nothing, Julek. You know I will always be by your side, just as I know you will do for me. I want nothing but your full recovery to repay my kindness, nothing more, nothing less.”

He’s not sure who was first to become teary-eyed, but they soon find themselves softly crying quiet tears.

“Thank you, Essi. Truly, you must understand how much I love you.”

“You love everything and anything.”

“Yes, but none more than you.”

“Not more than that Witcher of yours, perhaps.”

Jaskier smiles at her. They both know it’s true. While he doesn’t ache like before, his wound is still there, just like his love for Geralt.

“Good night, Julek,” Essi says as she gently kisses his brow. “I’ll come tomorrow morning, as always, for tea and breakfast, alright?”

For some _unfathomable_ reason, Jaskier couldn’t say yes. Instead, he stares into Essi, committing her features into his mind. She takes his silence as an agreement before moving to stand up. Just as she was about to turn around, Jaskier grasps her hand once again.

“Thank you, Essi. I love you.”

Essi smiles, sweet and innocent. “And I love you, too.”

She kisses his brow once again before turning to exit the room. Jaskier watches her retreating form and stares at the door even when it has shut. Slowly, he turns his head to face the ceiling, struggling to breathe but, surprisingly, not painful.

_Ah, has death come for me?_

Jaskier, born as Julian and a noble, has no family nor lover to return to. But he has met a variety of people. He has met inspiring people; who are weak; who are strong; people that didn’t give up and those that did; who have hurt him and have loved him. He made friends and lovers and enemies. He has sung and danced throughout the Continent, his name and words known by far and wide. He met and loved Geralt.

Jaskier still has _so_ many things to do and see. He wishes to travel once again after he has seen and guided his students until they graduate. He wants to publish a book of his experiences, a legacy to pass. Jaskier wants to walk Essi down the aisle of her own wedding. He _really_ wants to tie Valdo Marx naked up a tree at least once. He wants to finally learn to bake that damned pie. He wants to continue writing songs, sonnets and ballads. He wants to sing until every cruel word meant for Witchers are gone, erased and forgotten.

He wants to see Geralt one last time.

(Jaskier always thought that he would die on the road as he followed Geralt, either by the hands of men or by monsters. But here he is, comfortable in his bed with a roof over his head.)

Jaskier wants to do so much more, but strangely enough, he has no regrets. No hatred or sadness, but only contentment and peace and acceptance. Just as he has loved freely, he lived his life to the fullest.

Yes. No regrets at all.

With a flutter of his closing eyes and his stuttering breath, Jaskier accepts death’s embrace with a serene smile.

_I rest my head at night content, knowing where my marbles went._

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be 1k max, but then feelings happened and here we are. I’m not sure where I’m going with this, perhaps I’ll make a sequel, but I just wanted to write this fic about Jaskier dying no matter what! 
> 
> Don’t be shy to drop a comment. I would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading :)


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